So Let it be Written

After pondering the hours of Wii time, I decided to FORCE my kids outside. . . .they are now happily shoveling the tramp.

I went to document said activity in photo format, but now I can't find the stupid camera. I thought I remember putting it somewhere 'safe.' Great. Last time I put the camera somewhere safe, it didn't show up for 4 months.

What do you do when. . . .

you notice that the spoiled, rich girl (from The Princess and the Frog movie) has a lot more in common with your 6 year-old daughter than you'd care to admit??

Is the whining by her and the caving in by us a product of her solitary role as little girl in the house? I don't know. What I do know is it is time to start laying down the law. Any suggestions?

Snow Fun

Snowing outside. . . . but do my kids want to put on their snow gear and enjoy it? Nope. They are now entering their fourth hour of video game play.

I am such a great mother.

My New Addiction

Yes, I have stolen my husband's ipod and discovered podcasts!!! Love them. Go to the iTunes store under podcasts and there are tons of free ones. My favorite are: Stuff You Missed in History Class.

Who new Harry Houdini started his prolific career as a swindler????? Now I do, and you can too.

Oh wait. . . .One other addiction: my new CHI. How did I spend so many years without this lovely hair accessory? I don't know. But since you thought my hair looked so good at church on Sunday, I thought I'd share my new secret.

P.S. A CHI is just a high-end flattening iron--nothing like that one you used in junior high. It is just 1 inch thick and heats up super fast and super hot. . . .it has made doing the back of my hair so easy and quick--I don't have to worry about the layers hanging right or my hair flipping up in weird places due to my somewhat naturally wavy hair.

My Christmas Gift from Roger

Last night (for the first time since we started potty training September 29th) Roger said, "Mom, I have to go poo poo."

He then sat on the potty and did the deed. No coaxing from me.

Unsolicited bowel movement. . . ahhh, what a gift!

For your last minute gift. . . .

Introducing the TV-B-Gone: a universal remote that turns off any T.V.

Just imagine the hours of prankstering fun!

Spilling the beans

Davis has a secret: he loves the Barbie Christmas Carol movie. He's been turning it on at every moment of down time he's had. Isn't that cute? I think he might not be happy with me spilling the beans. . . . . .

Nine is Divine!

Today my sweetheart and I hit 9 years of marital bliss. Well, mostly bliss (gotta be honest with ya).

In a stroke of sheer surprise, my husband had flowers sent to the house. They came early (around 9:00 A.M.) and made me feel so loved. Eliza asked why I was crying. I told her they were happy tears.

Now some of you may say that flowers should be a given on an anniversary, but, unfortunately, my husband and I have not been great celebrators. . . partly because this close to Christmas there is usually some sort of activity(or money shortage) and partly because we aren't great celebrators.

So, cheers to you honey!!! Love you!! Thank you!! Here's to 9 more!!

Question: when is the best time to go grocery shopping?

Answer: at 6:30 A.M. after your baby wakes up and won't go back to sleep.

There are workers everywhere stocking shelves if you have a question. No waiting in line. Lots of comments from shoppers on how cute your baby is. You smile and agree he is cute, but wish you both were sleeping instead.

Count Your Blessings

Today I'm grateful for a crusted toothpaste cap because it means I've got a houseful of kids that are at least TRYING to brush their teeth.

The mom of a two-year-old

No one really explains what they mean by 'terrible twos.' Then there are the hopelessly optimistic or cheerful (or just hopeless) people who say, "You know, my son/daughter never really went through that stage." I have concluded one of two things about these people: They are lying OR it has been a few years since their child was two and they can't remember anymore.

Today was a terrible two-year-old day. I asked Roger to get his shoes on so we could go to the store. Happily, he responded, "Tay."

"Would you get your shoes so I can help you put them on? They are downstairs." This request of mine was the 'terrible' trigger.

"My shoes NOT downstairs!" Screaming and yelling ensue. "Dey not downstairs! My shoes NOT downstairs."

I then tried to expain to him (this is where the term 'falling on deaf ears' must have been phrased) that we had taken his shoes off at the bottom of the stairs this morning after we dropped the twins off at school. "NO!!" was his reply. "My shoes NOT downstairs."

"Yes, they are."

"No, dey not."

"Yes, they are."

"NO, dey not."

"Roger, your shoes are downstairs," I say as I walk toward the top of the stairs. "See," I point to the stairs, "I can see them right there."

"NO," he insists, "My shoes NOT downstairs."

At this point I give up my line of reasoning and opt for the distraction. . . .
"Look down the stairs, Roger. I think your car is down there."

"My Tar?" he asks and walks toward the top of the stairs.

"Yes. Look down the stairs." He looks. I subtly add (or not so subtly, but he is two after all), "Oh, there are your shoes. I see them."

"Oh, my shoes!" He exclaims. "I get dem."

He then proceeds to walk downstairs and grab his shoes. He brings them up, hands them to me, and announces, "I found my shoes! You help me put 'em on?"


P.S. On a somewhat, though not totally, related note: Have you ever noticed that when your two-year-old is having a tantrum in the store, someone walking by often comments, "Oh, your little guy must be tired."? Given this line of reasoning, all two-year-olds should actually be in bed for at least 20 hours a day. . . . . . . they are just tired after all.

Just Wondering

Is it just me, or do most recipes call for at least 2 cans of tomato sauce? If this is the case, why don't they sell a 16 oz can of sauce for LESS than two 8 oz cans?

I've got a lasagna recipe that calls for 29 oz can of tomato sauce. But you know what? A 29 oz can costs more than 4 cans for 8 oz- so I am stuck opening 4 cans instead of one just to save like 30 cents. . . .why am I thinking about this? Well, I don't really know, except that I just hate using the can opener and scraping the sides of those little cans for every bit of puree they will give me.

Manly Leotard?

Yesterday Davis's competition uniform came in. . . .the feature: a leotard. Davis was excited to try on his uniform until I called it a leo. Then he looked at me funny and questioned, "Mom, is it a leotard? Because boys don't wear leotards. Leotards are for girls."

I then did some backpedalling on my previous statement and amended my comment that it certainly was not a leotard because it had shorts attached. Whew! Disaster averted. After a quick search today, I discovered a lycra suit with shorts attached is actually called a 'biketard.' Hmmm, I'm not sure which is worse, leotard or biketard? I think I will be referring to it as his uniform from now on.

I would also like to add that he wears shorts OVER the bike/leotard, so all packages are safetly hidden. . . .just in case you were worried.

Moment (okay, half-hour) of Weakness

My brother sings like an angel. . .seriously. I could listen to him for a day and not get tired of it. Last week, I set him up to sing in Relief Society for the lesson. Although I had to stay home with strep, I heard it was wonderful.

The R.S. President brought by some Lindt chocolates for me to give to him as a thank you. . . . but, they were calling out my name yesterday. I caved. I opened the bag. I ate one. Then another. Then another. Until. YIKES! The whole bag is gone. And I was wondering why my pants are all still too tight.

UPDATE (TUESDAY): I just got a replacement bag of chocolates at the store today. I put them in the top of my closet so they don't tempt me.

The night-light elf

Last night as I was tucking Eliza in for bed she announced, "Mom, I have a problem. This is not my night light." I looked and, sure enough, her traditional blue light was replaced by the red one from the boys' room. I found her light neatly placed in the socket of the boys' room.

This is about the third or fourth time the lights have mysteriously been switched. After some sleuthing by Dad, he has determined that the switch is taking place during the day by my toddler. I can't help but laugh at Roger sneaking around bedrooms sometime during the day when no one is watching and switching out the lights. Who knows why he does what he does? Gotta love the two-year-old psyche.

D has encouraged me to talk with Rogie about this behavior because he is afraid a shocking incident is bound to happen . . . . so now instead of having an elf sneak around and keep tabs on the kids, I have to sneak around watching my little 'elf' for night-light thievery.

You know you've got a bad case of strep throat when:

You put up with a 'spit bowl' next to your bed because every time you swallow it feels like you are swallowing glass. A spit bowl is the only relief.

Gross, I know. Here's hoping those antibiotics kick in real soon. . . . . .

Flabbergasted!

Can't get this out of my head: I was switching channels for Roger today (he loves Super Why!- I love it because I can take my shower), and came across this unbelievable exchange on MSNBC.

The commentators were discussing Tiger Woods and his infidelity. One man had this to say (paraphrased since I didn't record it or anything): The problem (infidelity) isn't with unfaithful men, the problem is with society. Instead of condemning cheating, we should expect such behavior from the rich and famous. It is normal. It has happened since the dawn of time, men just get caught now because of voicemails, emails, and video recorders. President Kennedy was a raging philanderer as was FDR, this didn't at all impact their effectiveness as Presidents. We need to redifine marriage and look at it more like an adjustable rate mortgage. When you get married you should commit to a five or seven year term, if at the end of the term, you decide to extend the marriage that is fine. This man felt that asking a person to be faithful his entire life was ridiculous and unreal.

CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? I am so mad at MSNBC for giving a stage to this man to spout such crap. I feel strongly that marriage is under attack- this just proves it. Marriage is more than a couple professing they love each other at one moment in time. Marriage is about commitment. Marriage is a divine institution that has been on earth since the beginning of man. Marriage should be the strongest vow and covenant that two people ever take on this earth. Marriage is about raising healthy children. This man's view of marriage was selfishness. Marriage is the opposite of selfishness- it is about selflessness.

For all the poopheads out there who are spewing this dirt, I would like them to know that there are couples who have aged many years in marriage. If you ask them if it was easy, they would say it was not. If you ask them if there were times they were tempted to stray, they would probably say there was. But they resisted these feelings and worked very hard to keep their marriage strong. They know far better than anyone who gave in to temptation how hard it is to resist. THEY RESISTED TO THE BITTER END. They are the strong ones. They have strength of character. They didn't give in at the first moment of weakness. These are the people we should look up to.

Women, don't believe this garbage. If you do, don't get married. Don't let these wicked men taint your view of what marriage is. Men, don't believe this garbage. If you do, don't get married.

People in marriages, stay strong!! Fight against those urges. Fight, fight, fight! You can do it. Only Satan, the father of all lies, will try to tempt into believing it isn't worth the fight. Work for your marriage. It will be the hardest thing you ever do. Don't be selfish. Before you get married, make sure you are on the same page as your partner. Make a gameplan. Be honest with each other.

As for you dork on MSNBC with your good looks and loud mouth, someday this will be your undoing. You are looking for happiness. This won't bring you happiness. When all is said and done, people with these views will be sitting in nursing homes with no visitors, no family, and no one who loves them.

Embarrassing Moment

Last night at dinner, Eliza got quiet and I could tell something was bothering her. She let me know that she had 'tooted' at school and everyone laughed at her. Then she broke down in a crying tizzy. . . . what do you say? Everyone toots, you know.

Stinkin' Scientists!

Yep, I was totally bugged this week when I read that hundreds of emails were leaked from leading climatologists which amount to them covering up and 'massaging' data to hide declines in global temperatures.

As a former scientist (I say former because mostly what I do now is change diapers, drive carpools, and engage in craft projects-gotta love it), I was EXTREMELY BOTHERED BY THIS. . . . . a scientist lives and dies by the data. Scientists know that data is often confusing and misleading, at times it is hard to know exactly how to interpret a set of numbers and account for many variables: but these guys are the leading researchers on global climate change. Their work was published in NATURE (this is like the coolest/most prestigious journal that every scientist dreams of publishing in)!!! I don't care if their systems were hacked (this is not the story), these men are scientists! Their work should have NO AGENDA attached- the data is the data. A scientist uses data to tell a story, not massage data to prove their story.

Now, I love the earth just as much as the next guy. I love camping. I love hiking. I even love polar bears(totally the best part of San Diego Zoo). I even recycle, for heavens sake!! But reading about this fraud made me really curious about global warming in general, and the political implications (cap and trade bills) in particular.

I will try not to bore you, but my reading has lead me to believe that man-made global warming isn't as simple as some passionate environmentalists (former vice-president, oscar, and nobel laureate) would have us believe.

I found this amusing YouTube video from John Stossel on 20/20 (love that guy). The video pretty much sums things up. I also learned that for 'An Inconvenient Truth' to be shown in schools now, teachers must point out 11 inaccuracies of the film to students. In other words, 'An Inconvenient Truth' is inconveniently wrong in some places.



As for Cap and Trade, I was admittedly LOST about the bill. I found an article that is pretty succinct, but as a disclaimer, it was written by a Republican congressman from California (thus definitely skewed against Cap and Trade).

And because I can't resist one more video:

Give Thanks

Yeah!! Just got back from St. George and an awesome weekend with the family (minus just one of D's brother and family- we missed you guys). Other than my inability to sleep when I am not at my house, everything was just perfect--great meal, great company. I'm glad I married into this family and look forward to years and even eternity to spend with them.

THE DINNER PICTURES

The funnest part of the day was hiking in some slot canyons that Paul scouted out. I actually got scared on one steep jump because it reminded me of when I broke my leg in college doing a similar activity. I am so glad that no one got hurt--especially Roger who was running ahead so fast with the big kids we couldn't keep up with him. It was pretty scary when we were handing kids down a steep jump/cliff- but it was unifying as well. It felt like one of those team-building retreats. What a blast!

THE HIKING PICTURES

A First

Enjoy!

A Question

From Davis:

Why does Sprite burn your toungue like hot sprinkles?

A sobering statistic

"Nine out of ten children between the ages of 8 and 16 with Internet access have viewed pornographic websites. . . ."

Yep, I have internet access. That means that by the time my kids are 16, they have a 90% chance of viewing porn. . . .That makes me sick! As a parent, I have a hard time imagining such a thing happening with my kids, but I know I can never be too safe. The article also says:

While there's no question that setting guidelines and putting safety measures in place are critically important, parents should keep in mind that sometimes children are introduced to pornography outside the home, away from those safety measures. Filters and other protections may not be in place at friends' houses, hence the importance of arming kids with information.

Read more if this article here.

Empty threat of the day, courtesy of Yours, Truly

Roger just tried to open Reed's door. Reed is sleeping.

My reaction, "Roger if you open that door, I will put you in time-out for the rest of your life."

Luckily he didn't open the door because that was one punishment that I'm pretty sure I couldn't have followed up on.

A Mother's Prayer

Dear Heavenly Father,
There are just a few things I want you to help me remember today. Please help me remember my 6-year-olds jumping out of the car at the drop off zone at school. As they walked a few bounds, they turned around and said, "Bye, mom. I love you."

Please help me to remember my 2-year-old's delight when his cereal was presented in his favorite bowl this morning. . . . ."Yeah, Nemo!" Help me to remember how he jumped up and down with excitement as he put on his Thomas the Train undies, "I lub Thomas!"

Help me to remember my 4-month-old's wonder as he was bathed and found the stream of water from the shower. He cautiously, clumsily reached out to further investigate with his hand. As he got braver, he decided on the ultimate experiment-- to taste the running water. As, he reached his head close to the stream of water he was surprised to get a shot all over his face. He jumped in my arms and looked at me with eyes full of water. Then, he leaned forward again and stuck out his toungue to taste the new find. Ahhh, water. Not so bad. He licked his lips.

Thank you for my little gifts this day. I am grateful for the joy they bring.

In Style

Today I overheard Eliza telling this to a friend she was playing with:

"Do you like my belt. . . Rock stars wear them. And so do hot women."

Caps For Sale

This is what Roger looked like when he came upstairs this morning. . . . reminded me of that children's book.

My two cents

The vote for the House Bill, H.R. 3962 will likely take place on Friday.

I don't believe the drafters of the bill intended harm, but this HUGE bill will have many unintended consequences including a general move towards government-run healthcare and loss of options in the insurance market. I also feel the bill will cost far more than CBO estimates. As a surgical specialist, my husband predicts his workload will increase (as new medical students will find little benefit to the long, difficult years of training without higher compensation)--as specialist's workload increases, longer waitimes for patients will be the end result. He also fears his practice of medicine will be dictated by beaurocratic panels who have little interest in individual patients, but rather, the bottom line.

In addition, all 17 proposed amendments that would prohibit taxpayer funding for abortion in ObamaCare have been defeated. It is immoral to fund the destruction of innocent human life-especially if that funding comes from MY taxes. I urge you to protect the life of the unborn by opposing the Health Care Bill.

Please call your congressmen and Senators and tell them to VOTE AGAINST HR 3962.

Death of an appliance AND Mr. OCD

My hair-dryer failed to start this morning. I am mourning the loss- mostly because my hair looks like a mess today. It was a good blow dryer that served me for 3 years. R.I.P. old friend.

I guess I wasn't in mourning too long because I went to Big Lots and replaced it within an hour.

On to other news: I think my 2-year-old has a premature form of O.C.D. No, I'm not kidding. For about a month now his behavior is as follows: Mom, Dad, or siblings (including Reed) touch him. He squeals as if in pain, then shouts. "My (insert name of body part that was touched here)!" He then proceeds to take back the said body part by touching the offenders hand-- THREE TIMES.

The behavior is getting worse. While I was replacing my old friend, Mr. Blow-dryer, at the store, Roger yelled, "My Fingers!" Then he pointed to the top shelf we had just walked by. "What?" I questioned, "You didn't even touch that shelf."

His reply, "My FINGERS!" Then he started tantruming--with a very loud voice.

"Okay, okay," I said, "I'll help you get your fingers." I then proceeded to lift him up to the top shelf where he 'took back' his stolen fingers by touching the shelf.

Then, when I thought all was well, he yelled again, "MY FINGERS!"

"But, I just helped you get your fingers. You have them already."

Screaming by the little tot and giving in from me, "Okay, we'll get your fingers again, but this is the last time."

I then rounded the corner, and he yelled again, "MY FINGERS!"

By now, I am getting pretty perturbed. "No. I told you it was the last time to get your fingers. We are walking away now. You have your fingers. See? They are right on your hand." Then, I walked away. Roger didn't. He screamed. Pretty loud. Now people are starting to look. A worker tried to bring him a ballon. He didn't like that. But I wasn't going to give in. Until he kept screaming as I walked farther away.

And, yes, I gave in. Again. But guess what? After he retrieved his fingers for the THIRD time. He was fine.

I see psychologists in this boy's future.

Weekly Reckoning, Part 3

I made some goals.

#1: Getting to bed by 10:15, lights out 10:30.
Since this is a two week review, can I just say that I started going to bed later (curse my stupid book-bingeing) and it REALLY made an uncomfortable difference last week. I feel SO much better during the day when I get to bed on time, especially in the mornings.

#2 Read scriptures with the kids during breakfast.
This one's going pretty well. I've also noticed it is the only time the kids actually listen because their mouths are busy. My mood is improved because I know I am doing something with my kids that needs to be done. I really want this one to become a habit.

#3 Exercise.
Nope. Not at all. Seriously having a devil of a time with this one. Any ideas?

#4 Babystep Checklists #1,#2
Well. I printed the checklists and started to make copies of important documents for an emergency folder-then the ink ran out of my printer. I need to back up my important computer files (aka pictures). Haven't even opened checklist #2. Gotta get on that!

Keeping these goals is giving me a run for my money. But it's important to me. Send me some love in your prayers, if you would.

Apostle says Religious Freedom is being Threatened

Apostle says Religious Freedom is being Threatened

Halloween Preview

Just some pics from the neighborhood's Trunk or Treat on Saturday:

Hermione Granger

My Little Punkin

Harry Potter

A slightly happy 'Bebe Eyefant'

And on a not-related topic (for Jesse)

Sucking your thumb is lotsa fun!

Can't understand that one

I went to go renew my books online (due today), and the one book that I couldn't renew was an old, worn out BOARD BOOK called Boats. Then I asked myself, "Why would someone put a hold on a board book?"

Now I need to run all the books back to the library tonight in order to dodge a fine on a book reserved for a baby.

The $$$$$ back-handspring

Eliza learned how to do a back-handspring this week. I've never seen her so happy before. She was doing them all over the lawn.

Hmmm, I got to thinking. How much did that back handspring cost? She started gymnastics for fun at age 3 and has taken since then. . . . I don't even want to calculate monthly tuition time 36 months. But I did. Try $15 a lesson. At least 4 times a month (sometimes more). That is more than $2000 bucks! Yikes. Maybe I should have put that money into an interest bearing account for college? Sounds like a smarter idea.

But, then again, she wouldn't be able to do a back-handspring.

For the love of boys

How do my boys manage to get pee on the bottom of the toilet (you know the part that screws into the ground) EVERY SINGLE DAY?

I don't get it.

From a Former Life. . . . .

I just ran into one of my former Microbiology students from Westminster College. She remembered me. . . .I remembered her face, but forgot her name. She's a nurse now at a local hospital. She said she liked my class.

Wow. Once I had another life.

Today I am wiping runny noses, but I wouldn't go back to that life. I'm glad I experienced it, though.

Weekly Reckoning, part 2

Last week I made some goals.

Today, I'm accountable.

Honestly, I think I've had a major dose of the adversary working against me this week. I kinda was wondering why he would bother to mess up such seemingly simple goals, but ultimately I believe he's out there to get me discouraged.

Yep, I'm discouraged. But as I sit and reflect on the week, I've really made progress.

Goal #1: In bed by 10:15.
Only one night did I stay up past 10:30-- and I was up doing some sewing for a neighbor (long story)--so, service kept me up--that's okay, right?

It was the nights that killed me. Nightmares for Eliza. Stuffy nose for me. Extra feedings for Reed. A freak wake-up from Roger in which he demanded to change his pajama's--at 1:00 in the morning. Seriously. Seriously (can the devil whisper strange thoughts to toddlers in order to mess up their mom's goals)? These night wakings are generally few and far between for my kids.

Goal #2: Be active for 20 minutes a day (preferably before everyone else get up).
The crappy sleep did it's damage. I woke up tired--and not once early enough to exercise. I found myself making excuses for not exercising because I was tired all day. Argghh. I walked the kids to school 3 days in the week (about a 15 minute walk). Sadly, that is the extent of my physical exercise. Hopefully, this week will be better because I am going to give back the gigantic train table our neighbors let us borrow, so I can set up the treadmill downstairs.

I quit my kids' walking group on Tuesday because D watched me running around like a chicken with my head cut off (he had the day off) and wondered why we were in such a hurry to get to school 10 minutes early? He was right. . . . . having the extra 10 minutes helped with the scripture reading during breakfast (Goal #3). And yes, I missed a couple of days reading, but we made up for them at dinner.

Goal #4: Do my babysteps checklist for food storage.
Didn't touch this goal but, I've got 2 weeks per checklist.

You've got 2 weeks

Hey friends!

Just wanted to let you know that you only have 2 weeks to sign up for the 'Mormon Lottery.' The lottery for seats to the MoTab Christmas Concert, that is (I know, I know, some of you started seeing dollar signs floating through the air).

The concert is December 10-13. They just announced the special guests. Drumroll please:

Natalie Cole and David McCollough

I've attended the Christmas concert every year for the past 6 years! I consider it one of the highlights of my Christmas Season and hope that anyone else gets a chance to start a new tradition. PBS has made this concert a tradition on Christmas Eve. It is free to enter the lottery. Just click on the link above and it will take you to the Christmas Concert page. Then to sign up for tickets there is a link in the top right corner of that page.

Wish me luck with the lottery and I'll send some your way as well!

What Video Games Really Do

Davis: Mom, guess what?

Mom: What?

Davis: Today I felt my brain turning to mush while Seth and I played video games.

Mom: Really? Did it feel weird?

Davis: No. It felt like I was getting a headache.

Most Amazing Lady and I Know Her!

Check out my friend Kelsey and her blog. She just gave birth to her SECOND set of twins. . . . . . . .no Clomid or anything. What a woman.

Interference

While Davis and Eliza were working on their homework (arranging letters into their spelling words), Eliza started talking out loud to herself.

Davis scolded her, "Eliza, could you be quiet? You are interfering with my learning."

Goals! OR Weekly Reckoning, part 1

It's October 11th! Do you know what that means?

Absolutely nothing (unless it is your birthday, in which case: Happy Birthday!).

I was thinking that I have a few goals I need to get started on. The thought went through my head that I wish it was the New Year so I could get going. Then I realized, "Duh! Who says you can't start now?"

So I am starting TODAY.

I have 4 goals:

1) Be in bed by 10:15 P.M. and lights out at 10:30. (I can make exceptions for late night movies or dates).

2) Start my babystep checklists for food storage and actually DO THEM.
(P.S. the website is right here: Food Storage Made Easy )

3) Be active for 20 minutes every day-preferably in the morning before the kids get up (thus goal #1) (I know this isn't a lot, but for me right now, it is a start).

4) Consistently read scriptures with my kids during breakfast-- seems easy, right? For me, this goal means I've got to get up early enough to have breakfast on the table and LUNCHES made.

I want to update every Sunday on my status. If you feel so inclined, keep me in check. Ask me how my goals are going.

Spooky

Eliza: Mom, we have got to go shopping today.

Me: Why?

Eliza: Our house just is not spooky enough on the outside.

Tonight

Tonight my Deedles is in bed.

He's tired.

He's spent many long nights at the hospital this week without sleep.

He's working tomorrow.

And Sunday.

He hasn't complained.

He helped clean up Roger, Roger's pants, Roger's undies, and Roger's tiny heinie just after he came home and Roger had a #2 accident.

He didn't complain.

He told me about a 16 year-old that was discharged from the hospital today following a 5 week stay due to injuries from a car crash. She wasn't wearing a seat belt. My little doctor spent lots of time during the night (and day) taking care of her--especially the first few weeks following the accident.

She walked out of the hospital with a smile and a hug for him.

He smiled.

I smiled.

I am so proud of my Deedles.

I just wish I could have him to myself a little more often.

Oh well.

At least he's up to some good in the world today.

Maybe I did something good, too.

Maybe.

I lost Davis after school.

I found him, though.

On my back porch.

He walked home on his own.

Life is good.

I've been blessed.

Thank you, Heavenly Father.

It's Confession Time

While at the grocery store today, as I was walking down the aisle, an overwhelming smell of nail polish permeated the air. As I was turning the corner, an apologetic mom had summoned a worker with the confession her toddler had somehow opened the nail polish and spilled it on the ground. She felt so bad, so I told her, "I've been there."

Yep, at that same store (my beloved Harmon's where the workers really do know my name, and my kid's names!) 5 years ago, when the twins were about a year old, they were sitting in the front of the car cart. Then Davis started crying. I ignored it for a second (thinking he was just complaining about being strapped in) until the smell of vomit started permeating in the aisle. Sure enough, he had puked ALL OVER himself and the floor. Fortunately Eliza was spared. I was lost. I didn't exactly know what to do. I pushed the cart to the front of the store and told the cashier that there was some major clean-up required on the soup aisle. The worker said she'd take care of it and then she offered to watch Eliza while I went to the bathroom to clean Davis up. I took her up on the offer and then she asked if she could check me out while I was in there. She opened up a register just for me and had someone check out my groceries while I was otherwise occupied. When I returned, I just had to swipe my card and everything else was taken care of. I was mortified.

A few months ago, this same checker was working and asked me where the twins were. I said they were in first grade an at school. She said she couldn't believe it and she remembered when they were babies. I said, "I know. You probably don't remember, but I do, when one of them got sick in one of the aisles. You were really helpful."

"Oh, I remember, " she nodded.

Nice. One of my most embarrassing moments was a very clear memory for her, too. But, she solidified my patronage at Harmon's from that moment on. Maybe I should write a letter of thanks to Bob and Randy. . . . . . (the Harmons brothers)

So, it's confession time. What is the most embarrassing/ worst thing your kids have done in public?

Today I learned

Today I learned that person's house might be dirty because they don't have enough money to buy cleaning supplies. Today I learned that person's house might be dirty because they are depressed and unable to get off the couch. Today I learned not to take no as an answer when you are offering something you know that person really needs.Today I learned cleaning someone else's house is much easier than cleaning your own--especially if you know they really, really appreciate your service.

Today I learned to be grateful for what you've got. . . even if it isn't perfect, at least you've got it.

Coupon-o-licious: I wish

You know when you go to a playgroup or hang at the park and soon everyone is sharing the great and AMAZING deals they got that week? Well, I've got a confession, I am not one of those people who gets good deals. I try to coupon-but always forget to bring the coupon into the store I needed it at, or I often find the store brands are cheaper than the coupon-brands. I don't even know which grocery stores have double coupon days.

I have friends that go yard-saleing and find some awesome stuff. So either I'm too snobby for other people's cast-offs (I don't think so) or I just hit the wrong garage sales or I'm not creative enough to see the potential in other people's trash. I go to D.I. sometimes and rarely find anything. I stop by Kid to Kid, too, but they never seem to have pants in the sizes I need.

So, I just spent 30 minutes perusing thrifty people's blogs and am totally amazed by their talent, and my lack of it. The only time I find good deals is when I am shopping with Brooke Sanderson. Occasionally I'll get 5 packs of soda for the price of 4, but that is the limit of my frugality. . . .

So, I'm sending out a big holler to those of you who are reading this who have a talent I don't: YOU GO GIRL, FINDING GREAT DEALS IS A SPECIAL GIFT!

post script

Didn't sleep much last night. I kept waiting for Roger to come screaming upstairs with wet pants and a wet bed. So, I waited. And didn't sleep.

To his credit, he was dry this morning! All that worrying for nothing (curse this stupid anxiety disorder of mine). But, before I go bragging or anything like that, I'll just let you know that he's already gone through one pair of underwear since then- with me standing right in front of him and 5 minutes after I asked him if he wanted to go. And so the training continues. . . . .

It's go time

I am potty training Roger today. I hate potty training. With. Every. Fiber. Of. My. Being. People sometimes ask my advice on potty training (Sarah and others). But, with a humble and discouraging nod, I must tell them, "I am not good at potty training."

My first attempt with the twins was an utter failure which resulted in a flood of the basement (one child had an accident while I was helping the other. I thought it would be a good idea to have that child clean up the peepee with a paper towel. I then thoughtlessly threw the load of pee-towels into the toilet and flushed. 3 hours later I walked downstairs and was greeted with soggy carpets). Stupidity, yes. Success, no.

My second attempt at potty training was with Eliza. Though she successfully donned underwear, it was only because I cleaned up poopy panties every day for about 2 months. She was afraid to poop on the potty. I was too stubborn to "fail" for a second time and kept her in the underwear despite the accidents. I will also note here that for 2 years she 'dribbled' in her underwear daily. Success? You decide.

Davis was, admittedly, a quicker transition to underwear (a full 6 months after I had 'trained' Eliza). But the child STILL streaks his underwear from time to time. So, I don't even know that I can say my 6 year old son is fully trained. Success? You decide.

So it is with trepidation that approach this new child and his quest for 'big-boy-ness.' I don't have a great track record as you can see. I am baffled and amazed at people that train in one day. I've read the books. I've talked to MANY. I try their tricks. I make it a party. We bought candy and soda and juice all especially for the occasion. There are cars ready to be bestowed upon the first day of dryness. People ask me why I am potty training him at only age 2 1/2. Well, I've had the little training potty in the bathroom for 5 months and he has successfully done #1 and #2 during that time. Sometimes, he tells me when he has to poop. So, I thought he was ready. I wasn't going to keep him in diapers for my own good--plus, they are so EXPENSIVE. I'm just doing it because the time feels right. Fortunately, I don't believe anymore that potty training success or age at potty training is an indication of brains- thank you, Davis and Eliza for doing well in school despite your hundreds of accidents.

Stats for today: Three capri suns and a glass of milk consumed. Four pairs of underwear 'soiled'- one with #2 (sorry, Lightning McQueen that you were deficated upon). Two pees on the carpet-quickly cleaned up. Six successful pees and one successful poo. Roger is napping right now. I am nervous. I covered the bed in waterproof material. I have been pacing outside his door to catch him the moment he awakes so I can wisk him to the pot.

I hate this. And I am sure you probably didn't enjoy reading the last paragraph except maybe those of you about to embark or in the process of training.

The only thing I can say that is good about this process is this: at least my expectations are so low that I am not too discouraged yet. I am also accepting all prayers tonight on my (and his) behalf (please give me patience, please give me patience).

Top of the world to you, mate. . .

I don't really know why I chose that title, but I did.

Yesterday I was told by my daughter that "Everything we eat at dinner time is yucky. I hate everything mom cooks."

Nice. And you were wondering why we had cold cereal for dinner tonight.

Live in SLC and want something to do Saturday?

Eliza's gymnastics coach is opening her own gym: Epic Gymnastics. We are so excited for her.

This Saturday is their GRAND OPENING party from 11-3. There will be an open gym with instructors and prizes. The gym is located just off the 4500 south exit of I-15. It should be fun to check out and see if your kids like gymnastics.

I started the kids in gymnastics shortly after they turned 3 and Tonya was their teacher. It has been great for their self-esteem and physical skills.

If you register for your session before Saturday, you get 10% off.

Heartwrenching and Foreboding (?)

I just read this story. A newborn preemie was not allowed medical attention in Britian because by 'law' he was not deemed an infant, but rather a fetus. The mother was not given drugs to stop her premature labor.

I'd like to know what you think.

My husband has indicated that most of the money he sees spent in healthcare is on the very young and very old (near death). Sometimes he feels his life-saving and drastic interventions are not worth it. From a beaurocratic standpoint in an office on a hill, perhaps that means we could offer more people care if we dropped these services.

In my opinion, however, good medicine happens in a bedside, in a hospital, in a clinic. When decisions and treatments are made in an office based upon financial impact to the system, the patient loses. It is not for government or an insurance company to decide who gets care and when, rather the PATIENT and the PHYSICIAN. End of story. We live in an age when medical miracles happen. I think the physician can give a patient his best advice as to whether or not a treatment is fruitless, but in the end, it is about saving lives or trying our best to do it..

In a rut

Yeah, I know I just had a baby 3 months ago. But today I'm feeling a bit down about my stupid stomach that isn't going away. . . . .just had to vent. I know I need to get back into exercise, but I'm having a hard time getting going. Bleh. There is something really disheartening about all of your pants being tight.

Book Advice Required:

Hey, fans. . . .well, okay I won't be so bold as to think I have fans, so. . . . . hey, friends!

While I was at the grocery store today, I noticed the new Dan Brown book, The Lost Symbol, on sale. I almost picked it up. I saw at least two people at checkout that bought it. But, instead of throwing caution to the wind (or rather, $20 to the wind), I thought I'd ask and see who picked up the book this weekend and what they thought.

No spoilers, please. Just a thumbs up or thumbs down and whether it is worth the bucks or I should just request it at the library and wait for it.

Mount Rushmore, as seen from Canada

I read somewhere that a mom's blog wouldn't be complete without back-to-school pictures. So here goes:

I couldn't get Reed to smile for these pics, but isn't he still cute and getting

c-h-u-b-b-y?

The crew outside the house before the walk to school

Rodger Dodger, age 2 1/2

(and yes, I gave him a haircut shortly after the picture was taken)

Eliza, 6 years old

Davis, 6 years old

Who Copied Who?

Which came first: "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star," or the ABC song?

Amusing Quote of the Day

"Whoever said, 'there's no use crying over spilled milk,' obviously never pumped six ounces and then accidentally dumped it."

--Shoebox Blog

Could you have told me this before we got to the register?

The kids begged to get Lunchables at the store today. And I caved in. It is a holiday, right? (by the way, what is it exactly that we are celebrating on Labor Day?). My general objection to Lunchables is twofold: First, there are only about 6 tiny crackers, pieces of cheese, and meat (along with a treat and juice). Second, this tiny lunch will run you about $3.50 (hello, I can get a happy meal for that amount and a TOY is included).

When we got home and opened the prized box of crackers, cheese, and turkey, Eliza announced, "I really hate this cheese. Do I have to eat it?" Ummm, who was it that was begging for this lunch anyway?

Baby-Girl Envy

Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't trade my little Reed for a girl. He's definitely a keeper. But, having said that, there are just a few things I get a little envious about when I see darling little baby girls:

• those gigantic flower bows that cover up bald heads (Reed's head is growing so well, but his hair follicles aren't keeping up. The result: an old man hairline. While I am on the topic of those gigantic flower bows, I must add that I don't know what to think when grown women don this hair accessory. My nurse in the hospital had bright pink scrubs with a matching bow in her hair. Though I can't argue the bow wasn't cute, it totally distracted from her face. . . . ah, I digress. Wait. Can you digress during a parenthetical thought?)
• tiny pink and purple dresses
• tights (love them on babies, hate them on me)
• car seats with a floral design

An Important Announcement:

Davis has just learned how to produce a farting noise by putting his hand in his armpit and pumping his arm up and down. Really, I've never had such a proud moment as his mom.

Perks of nursing, OR I've been reading a lot lately

One of the few not-so-great things about nursing is the fact you are forced to sit on your backside for long periods of time. Instead of feeling annoyed by this, I am embracing this opportunity to read--without the guilt of not getting something else done.

I just read the most AWESOME book. Zorro, by Isabel Allende. Haven't you always wondered how your favorite action-hero gets all those mad skills? You know, they drop-kick the villian from the building, aim two guns at two different places and acheive their target with deadly accuracy, and top it all off with a trick phone call in two different languages. Seriously, I always wonder how they do it. Well, this book explains the roots of the fabulous Zorro. The beginning is a little slow, but over the course of the book you learn about why this hero is motivated to stand up for injustice, learns latin, knows the enigmatic ways of the Native Indians, and can sword-fight with deadly accuracy. LOVED THE BOOK!! I highly recommend it with no bad language or somewhat embarrassing love scenes.
On the simple side. I've also read 4 delightful little books by Shannon Hale: Princess Academy, Goose Girl, Enna Burning, and River Secrets. The books are quick reads, found in the Young Adult fiction aisle, and just good plain fun!!

Simple Pleasures

Today, I feel happy. My twins are at school. They seem to like it (especially the part about eating lunch at school). Roger has a playdate with a friend on Mondays (I watch the kids on Thursdays). I went grocery shopping with a fabulously cute little baby. Then, I washed my car. Funny how such simple things are so enjoyable today. . . .I feel really grateful for my life. I think I will live on this high until I start potty training Roger in a few weeks. I am dreading this task.

On a side note, Saturday Eliza asked me if she could make her own toast. "Sure," was my quick reply. When I finally emerged in the kitchen Eliza was at the table with a big smile on her face. "Look, Mom, I am icing my own toast!" She exclaimed as she carefully spread jam across the bread. What a laugh from my little cutie.

The Lunchbox Fiasco

The twins started first grade yesterday!! SO exciting. Pictures to follow--well, maybe, I am not so good with getting them uploaded.

Today, I told the kids I would meet them by a tree just across the street from the school. I waited. Then Eliza showed up with her friend. I was glad to see her, but wondering where Davis was. Eliza told me she thought Davis ran ahead (pretty natural conclusion). I told her, "nope, I haven't seen him." Then she told me she had grabbed his lunch box.

We waited a minute or two for Davis, then decided maybe we better head up to the school to find him. Just as we turned around, Davis came to the crosswalk. When he got to us, he said he had been looking for his lunchbox and couldn't find it. He thought I would be mad. Then I told him that Eliza had grabbed it for him. At this point, figurative smoke started coming from his ears. He grumpily informed Eliza that he was "a first grader, and first graders don't need people to do things for them." Then Eliza started crying. She was just trying to help (last year, Eliza often grabbed Davis's jacket, mittens, umbrella, or even reminded him to get his backpack).

I had a great chuckle to myself that my little twin girl was enabling her brother. What a funny bond they have. . . . .

Think you pay too much for a doctor's visit?

I just opened the mail. It it was a bill from University Health Care, our health insurance carriers and D's employer. I thought the bill would be for Reed's pediatric care. Nope. It was a bill for services provided for D, BY Dr. Millar.

Yes, that is right. D just got charged for removing his OWN suspicious mole in melanoma clinic a few weeks ago. He was at clinic and had a mole on his stomach that has been bothering him for awhile. So, when there was a lull at the clinic during lunch, he found an empty room, removed his shirt, and covered his stomach in a blue gown with a peeping hole to show the mole. He then administered his own anesthetic and performed a punch biopsy on himself. He had one of the nurses film this whole escapade on his phone. His attending made him write up a history and physical to 'follow the rules.' The officed staff all came to watch Dr. Millar perform surgery on himself.

D thought he was hilarious. Now, I am not laughing. What ever happened to professional courtesy?

Dorky Mom

You know you have officially reached 'dorky mom status' when you purchase a box of cereal simply because it has 2 'bonus box tops' on the packaging. . . . . yes, that is a whole extra 20 cents for my kids' school!

Surprise

Isn't it great when you have brought your baby in bed for a quick snuggle/feed in the morning before everyone else wakes up? As you are staring down at his baby-cuteness, you feel fuzzy and warm about how great life is.

Shortly thereafter, your toddler runs upstairs and announces, "I hungwy." You get out of bed and realize that warm fuzzy feeling wasn't actually love, but your baby's diaper has leaked and you are now covered in warm pee-pee. Ahhh, life really is great.

Pictures!

A few photos from a busy July and August:

Independence Day hairdo's and playing with smoke bombs under the new tramp

Reed's Blessing Day with his grandparents

Yellowstone (can you believe we did this with a new baby? Yep, CRAZY)

Reed's First Smiles

Visiting Mom's (Grandma Diane) grave in Shelley

Reed posing by the tombstone of his paternal Great-Grandfather and namesake

Growing Pains

Eliza, "Mom, when will we look like first graders?

Mom, "You already do. You will start first grade in a few weeks."

Eliza, "No. I mean, when will we look like big kids?"

Mom, "You are growing a little bit every day."

Eliza, "I don't get it. That's ridiculous! Every day when I look in the mirror in the morning, I still look the same!"

W-O-W!!

Today while I was hauling my car seat and Roger to the register at the gas station, a teenage boy kindly let me go in front of him. Then as I was stepping out of the store, the same young man opened the door and waited for a hobbling old lady to pass through. He then proceeded to ask me if he could help me out to my car!!

What a rock star. I seriously got a warm fuzzy feeling when I thought about this kid and his parents-- it is so cool to know that there are amazing people who are teaching their kids to be so courteous and amazing teenagers who think about something other than themselves (I am pretty sure when I was a teen I was in my own little world and wouldn't have noticed a struggling mom or a hobbling lady!).

Badge of Motherhood?

Wouldn't it be funny if instead of a burp cloth on my shoulder, a diaper bag across my chest, and a baby in my arms, I had a badge that said:

True Mother: I Pee When I Jump on the Tramp

Addendum: Cash for Clunkers:

And here is Glenn Beck's take on the whole program:

You think about the path of the money here, okay? Just follow the money. Have you ever heard that, follow the money? Follow the path of the money here. They take $4500 of your tax dollars. Then they give it to some other citizen who takes their car that is running fine and then they give that $4500 back to the car company that is probably already owned by the government anyway and then the politicians get to stand up and say, hey, guess what, we saved the auto industry, sales are up 9 billion percent. They are taking money from the taxpayer, giving it to the government, then moving it to other people to give to the government again. It's the circle of government. It's weird how these things always end at the government, isn't it? They always it's just so weird. Imagine that there was a struggling McDonald's franchise. You go out and buy it. Then you announce a new McDonald's program at your franchise, all Big Macs are just a quarter. Then you go out and borrow the money to cover the difference between the quarter and the regular price and you put that in the cash register after every sale. Then you gather the employees and tell them your program was so successful, sales are up 200%. Oh, yeah, and by the way, we're out of business. That's what they're doing!

Cash for Clunkers?

O.K. , O.K., I haven't mentioned much in the political scene lately--but, I just can't stand not commenting on this one.

Today, the President lauded Congress on it's last minute deal to extend the "Cash for Clunkers" program. From what I understand, the program runs like this: you turn in your ag-ed car and the government promises you $3500-$4500 on your new car purchase. Everyone benefits, right: you get a new car, the car salesman gets a commission on a car that otherwise would have gone unsold--thus contributing to an ailing economy?

My problem is this: didn't the government just buy up huge portions of the car industry? So now, they have become the owners AND consumers of and in the auto industry. . . .of course it benefits the government to have an incentive program in an industry that they have such a big stake in. . . .but isn't that a HUGE conflict of interest? How can we be sure that the auto industry was most worthy of billions of dollars of taxpayer dollars versus another industry? Of course lawmakers will pat themselves on the back for how wonderful this peice of legislation is, but I can't help wonder how much this program was given precedence over something else because now the auto industry is owned by the governement.

Just wondering if this is the best way for our government to do business? And since when was it even government's job to be in the private economy?

A Special Moment. . . .

Deedles was on call on Saturday night. I was teaching my first lesson at church since the baby on Sunday, and was hoping he'd be able to slip home a little sooner than noon on Sunday, but at 8:00 A.M. I got a call from the O.R.--he was scrubbed into a liver transplant and would not be home soon--DARN!! When I hung up the phone I had a moment (one of many) where I really resented his job. I survived just fine even though my lesson didn't have any fancy object lessons, musical numbers, or handouts.

It wasn't until bedtime that D and I were discussing our day that he told me about the liver transplant. . . .This man had a liver transplant about a week earlier. His vitals had gotten steadily worse during D's shift Saturday. It was clear that his 7-day-old liver was failing, so that afternoon he and the attending removed the liver and put the man on the waiting list for another one. Later that night, word came that there was a second liver on its way. As D talked to the family of this man, he told them that their dad/husband/brother was very sick. He informed the family there was a likelihood that he would not make it through this second surgery in 24 hours-- the first transplanted liver had been necrotic and really had done a number on his system. As my husband began to excuse himself, the man's brother grabbed his hand and stopped him. He looked him in the eyes and said, "Doc, you are going to save my brother tonight."

D was very humbled to have so much faith put in him. He cried when he told me this. He said he had said a very earnest prayer after he excused himself from the waiting room, before they began the transplant. The man did well in surgery, and is doing well today.

It is moments like these that I am reminded when I am bitterly frustrated about my husband's lack of schedule and reliability--it isn't because he's on the golf course or pursuing some other activity. He is busy helping someone that can't help themself. What a noble work--and I have to think that I share a little bit in his blessings because I am willing to let him be gone--even when there is a lesson to be prepared.

Raindrops on Roses, and Whiskers on Kittens

These are just a few of my favorite things this summer:

• The nasty, run-down soda machine that miraculously still works (and is still stocked) just across the street
• Falling asleep with Reed on my stomach for a nap
• The sound of laughter outside as my kids are playing
• Snuggling with Roger in the morning as we watch Little Einsteins
• Cafe Rio grilled chicken salad
• Pillow-talk with D at night
• Roger's prayers
• Eliza's dance moves when she thinks no one is watching
• Davis's awesome tricks on the tramp
• Finally feeling like life is calm enough that making dinner doesn't sound like pure torture
• Almost daily trips to the gas station for an ice-cold beverage and treats for the kids
• Watching the kids get soaked in the sprinkler on a hot, hot day
• So You Think You Can Dance on T.V.

Harry Potter

Yep, I admit it: I am a total Harry Potter fan. I've read the books a few times, and I secretly wish I was not a muggle.

We went to the new movie yesterday, and although it was fun to see it on screen--I was a little disapointed, some key things (key to me) were missing. Ahhh, too bad.

The Sunscreen Let Down

I, like many other moms out there, was thrilled to discover the spray-on sunscreen. Let's face it: rubbing the sunscreen all over 3 kids bodies gets tedious--they hate it, I hate it. So when I saw the spray-sunscreen at Costco, I quickly picked up the 2-pack.

It is with great sadness that I report one bottle of the spray-on had evidently lost its juice before we even opened the package. The other bottle, which bragged even coverage, lived up to its name for about one application. Then, it just sort of spurted and gurgled its contents--I ended up having to rub on sunscreen anyway. And, to add insult to injury, the bottle really only lasted for about 6 or 8 applications. So with 3 kids, the math says that I was out of sunscreen after about 3 days! STINKY.

On the plus side, I called Coppertone to report the faulty bottle and they quickly sent me a 10.99 replacement coupon. But, instead of picking up another spray bottle, I went right back to the rub-on. . . so sad, so let down.

Has anyone else had the same sort of problems, or was I just unlucky?

Question

Today I have to ask myself: What are corn nuts? They don't seem like corn, and I don't think they are nuts.

Just Keepin' it Real

Well, thanks to everyone for being so nice!! But, I have a confession: I am totally on anxiety meds!! So for those of you who have been wondering how I do it--there's your answer. I am getting help from a little pill-hah!

2-week Anniversary

Well, I have now survived 2 weeks with four children!! I feel really good and even took all the kids swimming at a friend's pool today (thanks Bonnie). Swim lessons are in full swing for the twins, Roger is getting used to the idea of not being the baby anymore, and we even went to church yesterday (alone- D was on call).

And now I must admit I am horribly behind on laundry- but I guess that is not too bad considering. . . . . But I had a strange moment as I was loading my colors into the laundry tonight. I found the pink shirt I was wearing 2 weeks ago-- the same shirt I gave birth in, and the same shirt I held a just-born Reed on. I don't know how it ended up in the bottom of my bin. I would have thought I'd send it to the wash sooner.

The strange thing was that the shirt was slightly stained with newborn Reed blood (hope that doesn't gross anyone out)--it didn't show very much because the shirt was a dark pink, just a remnant remained of the predicament the shirt had been through--faded. As I was soaking the shirt in hydrogen peroxide (for anyone that doesn't know, this gets rid of blood stains like a charm) I couldn't help but relive those crazy few minutes again. People keep asking if I was terrified- and I really wasn't. I didn't have time to process the levity of the situation. I'm just glad things turned out the way they did.

The prayer of an anxious 6 year-old girl

". . . . . please bless me and Davis not to sink and die during swim lessons. . . ."

How a two-year-old sees his baby brother

Shortly after we brought Reed home from the hospital, we had him up on the changing table for a diaper change. I said, "Roger, look Reed is getting his diaper changed."

It took Roger a second to process this thought then his face changed. "Hey, that's mine!" he announced as he stepped forward-- I guess it would rock his world if I told him I was not happy about the fact that he still used the changing table--potty training is looming on the horizon for him.

How NOT to Deliver your Baby at Home, 101

Well, folks. Here it is: my version of the story. Sorry it is so long, but to those of you who know me, you know I can be very long-winded. Enjoy!

I woke up with a startle at about 6:45 A.M. from an uncomfortable contraction on the morning of June 22—the due date for my fourth baby. My first thought was, “Yes! Maybe I’ll have this baby today.” Shortly thereafter my day began with various household chores—feeding the kids, getting dressed, tidying up the kitchen. During the course of the next few hours, I experienced more contractions, but they were very irregular. A few were 10 minutes apart and others were 45 minutes apart. I called my husband, D, who is a surgical resident, and gave him the update so he would be aware of what was going on at home. We both decided that he would continue work until things seemed more urgent.

At 10:30 A.M., I had a non-stress test scheduled at the outpatient clinic of the hospital because it was my due date. I packed my bags, secretly hoping that my contractions would become more regular at the hospital, and they would admit me for the labor and delivery. I dropped my kids off at my sister-in-law’s, Cynthia, home and warned her that I had experienced some mildly painful contractions that morning and perhaps might be admitted.

When I arrived for my non-stress test, my contractions seemed to halt. After sitting in the comfortable chair for 30 minutes, I only experienced one contraction. After the technician analyzed my results, she said she saw the contraction on the monitor and I had also had a few others, but because they showed no consistency in strength or duration, that was a sign that of classic ‘false labor.’

I disappointedly walked to my car, but as I reached the parking structure, I had another somewhat painful contraction. “Well,” I thought to myself, “I’ll kick myself if I get home then my labor really starts. I think I’ll go upstairs to Labor and Delivery and have them check me.”

I arrived at Labor and Delivery and they showed me back to the triage nurses. I explained to them that I had had uncomfortable contractions all morning, and was wondering if this was the beginning of labor. One nurse told me that I would be admitted for a L&D emergency visit, do a non-stress test, then they would have me change into a gown and check my cervix. “Oh, I just had a non-stress test,” I told them. “It seems silly to do another one again.” They told me that was the standard protocol, and one nurse mentioned that it sounded like I really wanted was to be checked (that was exactly right!). She said she thought I was in false labor, and I should come back when my contractions were 5-7 minutes apart. She told me I could run down to the OB clinic and be checked by my regular doctor, but as I passed the floor where the clinic was I felt silly because I had just been told by a technician and 2 nurses that I was in false labor. I didn’t want to make my doctor miss lunch or the other patients have to wait longer because of my paranoia. It was now about 11:45 A.M.

I picked up lunch, picked up the kids, and headed home—somewhat sadly, I might add (I really wanted this to be the day!). I put my 2 year old down for a nap at around 1:00 P.M. From 1:00 P.M. to 2:00 P.M., I read stories with my 6-year-old twins and helped my son make a model airplane. I had one contraction during that hour. Then, at 2:00, I told the kids I needed a nap, so we headed to the bed with the portable DVD player—the kids watched a movie and I laid down to sleep. During the next hour, I had three contractions (just after 2:00, then 2:25, then 2:50) that were 25 minutes apart. The last contraction really woke me up—it hurt! I got out of bed and walked around my back patio for a bit.

At around 3:00 P.M., I called my husband. He said he had two more cases for the day that would be pretty short. I let him know my last contraction was pretty painful, but that they were still spaced so far apart that I didn’t think we needed to be in a hurry. We both decided he should scrub in for one more case and call me in about an hour when it was done.

I then walked into the house and did some tidying up. At about 3:10 or so, I had another really painful contraction, then 10 minutes later I had another one. At this point, with the contractions coming quicker and with definite force, I decided it was time to round up the kids and take them back to my sister-in-law’s home. I told the twins to gather their things, put their shoes on, and go to the car. They obeyed and ran out to the car to wait. I called my husband and left a message with the O.R. circulator that I was taking the kids to his brother’s house. It was now about 3:25-3:30-ish. When my husband got that message, he said he excused himself from the case-after all, he had just spoken to me 20 minutes before and now my story had changed.

Shortly after I left a message with my husband (about 5 minutes or so, around 3:35), I experienced another whopping contraction (I’d say about as intense as right before I asked for an epidural with my last pregnancy). I then paged my husband with the subject line: 9-1-1. This is our code for , ‘call me now, I really need to talk ASAP.’ My husband says that when he got this page, he was gathering things up from his locker, but when he saw 9-1-1 he threw everything back in and ran out to the parking garage.

At this point, I didn’t think I should be driving on the freeway, so I called my good friend, Liz. I told her that I was planning to take the kids to my sister-in-law’s home, but had just experienced some intense contractions and didn’t think it was wise to drive on the freeway. I asked her if I could bring the kids up to her house. She said, “Of course,” and even tried to say she’d come to my house. . . .”No, no,” was my reply, “I’m sure it will be fine to drive up the few streets to your house.” Then, I began another contraction—a big one—and told Liz I needed to hang up because I couldn’t talk. I hung up, muscled through this contraction and dialed Liz right back. “Liz,” I announced, “that was a really big one (contraction. I think maybe you better come down here. Maybe I shouldn’t be driving at all.” Liz says her phone recorded this call just after 3:40 P.M.

During the course of my conversations with Liz, my husband was frantically trying to reach me—remember he had just gotten the 9-1-1 page from me. He tried over and over. The line was busy—I was talking to Liz. Finally, he dialed my cell phone. Luckily, I had left the phone in the car—and my 6-year-old daughter answered it. She was instructed by her Dad to go inside and find mom so he could talk to her.

At this point, things really began happening quickly. Right after I hung up with Liz, I was in the bedroom and another contraction hit. The best way I can describe it is as one of the most painful things I had ever felt—and it took me by surprise. I put my hands on the dresser, and screamed out it pain!! I thought this was just another contraction, but it didn’t seem to be ending. The thought came to me that maybe I needed to use the bathroom, so I hobbled around the corner and sat down, but still-no relief. Just as I sat down, my daughter entered the bathroom with the cell phone. She told me Dad was on the line and wanted to talk to me. “No! I can’t talk,” I blurted out.

“Dad wants to know if he should call 911,” she said.

“I don’t know,” was my reply. I still thought this contraction was going to end!

My daughter then answered a few questions from her Dad (where is mommy? Is there blood on the ground?), and then once again my daughter said, “Dad wants to know if he should call 9-1-1.

“Yes!” I finally screamed. This contraction was not ending, and now I felt the urge to push. My mind told me that having to push during a contraction meant the end was coming but I still held onto the hope that this pain would end soon. But, I couldn’t hold off. I pushed. As I did, my water broke. ‘Good,’ I thought, ‘now this contraction will end.’ (my last labor began with a contraction that broke my water. But that labor had ended with a delivery 8 hours later).

Much to my dismay, the urge to push did not leave me—and neither did the pain. At this point I reached in between my legs and, lo and behold, there was a head-crowning. It was then that I knew I was actually about to deliver my baby at home. I reached down again, and this time I also processed that the baby’s cord was on top of his head- a prolapsed cord! In my mind flashed a cartoon image from a First Responders Course I had taken from the Red Cross. It was a cartoon image of a woman giving birth with a cord coming out first- the image was framed in a circle with a big “X” over the top. I knew at this point that I had to push this baby out fast because every minute longer was a minute he was going without oxygen.

I asked my daughter to grab some towels for me. She did, and obediently went back out to the car to wait. I whipped off my bottoms and got down on the bathroom floor on all fours. I tried to feel the contractions and push with them. I was also racking my brain with breathing techniques ‘Oh, yeah, don’t hold your breath,’ I told myself. After a few pushes I felt that the head was beginning to come out.

While I was on all fours, the phone rang. Although the phone was just on the countertop, I was too overcome to get it. The answering machine picked up,” Hello, Camilla. This is Salt Lake City Fire Department. I just wanted you to know that EMS is on their way. If you could pick up the phone, I would love to talk to you. I’m going to wait here for a minute, then I will call back.” That phone call was very comforting, but I still didn’t know if I would be delivering this baby all by myself or not.

Then, I heard Liz outside. “Liz,” I screamed, “Get in here! I am crowning!” Liz walked in the door and was greeted with a scene she probably wouldn’t have been expecting in her wildest dreams! A pregnant lady on all fours, GIVING BIRTH! Liz quickly dialed 9-1-1 on her cell phone and as she did, the phone rang again. I told her that it was probably 9-1-1 and she should answer it. She did. She listened for a moment, and I heard her tell the woman on the line that she could see a head. “Camilla,” she said, “they are telling me that you need to turn over on your back."“I can’t,” I whined. I just thought it would be too hard with a head in between my legs, not to mention the contractions I was having. The woman on the line told Liz to ask me if I wanted to move to the bed. Liz knew I wasn’t moving anywhere, but she ran to the bedroom to grab a blanket. As she did, I gathered up the courage to turn over like I was told. Liz came around the corner and helped me. Then she moved to my feet where she could help me.

After a push or two on my back, I had pushed out the baby’s head. I heard Liz say, “I see his face. His head is purple,” This scared me. I told Liz that I was going to push out the body and I needed her to pull. I pushed. Nothing happened. “Liz,” I said,”I need you to pull harder.”

Then Liz got her hands up around the baby’s head and shoulder. I pushed and she pulled. She said she sort of wriggled the baby’s head and body out and then he was born! We think his birth happened at around 3:50 P.M. I felt such relief at this point. But again Liz said, “He is purple and not breathing or crying.” I told Liz there was a bulb syringe on the dresser in the baby’s room, and she should give me the baby. I grabbed the baby while she got the syringe. He was pretty purple. I slapped his back and tried to remove any goo from his mouth with my finger. He started gurgling slowly, but no crying yet. Liz returned with the syringe and went to work.

Then EMS arrived and took over for Liz. Very slowly, the baby started making more noise. They cut the cord and asked for some blankets to warm him. I told them where the blankets were. Then my husband came running in, the hallway was crowded with four EMS guys, and no one saw him. He cleared his throat and announced, “I am the Dad and a physician. Can I please get past?” He came into the bathroom and checked me out. He asked about my bleeding, and the man that was helping me said that there wasn’t too much blood. My husband then felt confident that I was going to be okay. He turned to the man holding the baby and helped wrap the baby in blankets. This man informed him that the ambulance had been heated up and they had oxygen in there. My husband said, “Let’s go then.” I am told that after several good slaps and some oxygen that my baby cried, pinked up, and seemed no worse for the wear.

I was shaken and didn’t know what to expect with the placenta. I asked if I needed to push it out. EMS informed me that I could if I felt like it, but didn’t need to worry. They then lifted me up on a chair and moved me to a stretcher. I was then wisked out of the house and to the ambulance. I was greeted by the many neighbors who walked down the street to see what the commotion was all about—totally embarrassing! I delivered the placenta in the ambulance, in my own salad bowl of all things! When I arrived at the hospital, they stitched me up and gave me some much-wished-for narcotics. Baby Reed weighed in at 8 pounds, 4 ounces and was 20 inches long. He passed his APGARS (sp?) with flying colors--thank goodness!

I thank my Heavenly Father for granting me clarity of mind and several perfectly timed things happening during this ordeal; my great friend showing up in the nick of time, my ability to remember where the bulb syringe was placed, my six-year-old daughter answering the phone which was ‘accidentally’ left in the car, the hasty arrival of EMS and my dear husband getting home as quick as possible! All’s well that ends well, right?